Coming Home by Laurie Breton Read Free Book Online Page B

broke the corner, took one look at her, and did a
double-take.  “Holy shit.  Are you trying to kill yourself?”
    “I’m trying to get this blasted thing down.  I don’t think it’s
been washed in forty years.”
    “Woman, you are an accident waiting to happen.  Get down from
there before you break your neck.”
    She caught hold of the hand he held out to her and said, “You try
going through life only five feet tall.”
    He had the fixture unscrewed within seconds.  Handing it down to
her, he scowled and said, “What if you fell and nobody was here to pick up the
pieces?”
    Casey waved away his concern and immersed the glass in hot, sudsy
water.  “I’m as agile as a mountain goat.”  She rinsed the shade and held it
up.   “Look at this.  I knew there was something beautiful underneath all that
grime.”  She smiled up at him.  “Have you had lunch?  I make a mean tuna fish
sandwich.”
    “You’re on, kiddo.  Where does Danny keep his guitar?”
    “In the bedroom closet.”  She held out the light fixture.  “You
put this back up for me, and I might even let you play me a song.”
    He sat on the edge of the kitchen table with Danny’s guitar and
watched her prepare lunch.  “I’ve seen a big difference in Danny,” he said,
“since he married you.”
    She licked mayonnaise from a butter knife and dropped it in the
sink.  “Good or bad?”
     “He’s mellowed.  You’ve somehow managed to smooth out all his
jagged edges.”
    Casey opened a loaf of bread, pulled out four slices, arranged
them on the counter and began spreading tuna salad.  “Maybe,” she said
philosophically, “there’s a reason why opposites attract.  Maybe it’s because
we complement each other.  Fill in the chinks in each other’s armor.” 
    He plucked absently at the guitar strings.  “That’s one way of
looking at it.”
    She arranged the sandwiches on a couple of plates and handed one
to him.  “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”
    “Ask away.” 
    “Why does Danny call you Wiz?”
    He took a bite of the sandwich, chewed and swallowed.  “The first
time Danny heard me play, he called me a guitar wizard.”  Rob shrugged his bony
shoulders.  “The name just stuck.”
    “I see.  And are you a wizard?”
    “Hell, no.  I’m just an ordinary guy who sleeps with his guitar.”
    After lunch, while she cleared up, he picked away at a dank,
bluesy melody.  “That’s pretty,” she said.  “I’ve never heard it before.  What
is it?”
    “You’ve never heard it before because I just wrote it this
morning.”
    Eagerly, she said, “Does it have words?”
    “Not yet.  I thought you might like to take a shot at it.”
    “Me?” she asked, inordinately pleased.  “You want me to write the
lyrics?”
    “Yeah, you,” he said.  “Why not?”
    Hours later, Danny found them huddled over his old upright piano. 
He turned on the overhead light and Casey blinked, trying to focus.  “Hello,
darling,” she said.  “What are you doing home so early?”
    Danny eyed the papers scattered about the room, the overflowing
ashtray beside Rob, the empty Coke bottles.  “I’m not early,” he said.  “You
were sitting here in the dark.”  He dropped his jacket on a chair and stood
behind her, his hands creating a pleasant warmth on her shoulders.  “What the
devil are you two doing?”
    Rob’s long, bony fingers ran a quick riff on the keyboard.  “I
asked Casey to add some lyrics to a tune I wrote,” he said.  “We ended up
rewriting the whole thing.”
    “Let’s hear it.”
    Casey played it, singing harmony with Rob.  When they finished,
there was a moment of silence.  “Christ,” Danny said, “that’s good.”  He leaned
forward, hands still on her shoulders, studying the music.  “Let me hear it
again.”
    Before the song was half-through, he was singing with them.  She
exchanged a glance with Rob, and he shot her a quick wink.
    Danny squeezed